Snow Warm Heart '09
by SS-HPFC
Summary: It was freezing in Hogwarts Library. Not only that, but it was deserted. It being Christmas, and the school so empty.' RW/SM For Angie!


**The author would like to apologize for how bad this is, but she isn't familiar with the pairing, so at least something was written. **

**Snow Warm Heart**

It was freezing in Hogwarts Library. Not only that, but it was deserted. It being Christmas, and the school so empty, Rose could have chosen any spot in the school to sit and read her book without being disturbed by the few measly students left there. But she chose the dark library, with the ancient stacks on books on the dusty tables.

It was peaceful there, the only light coming from an old lamp on the table. Rose kicked the radiator on the wall, it stuttered to life, setting out a bit of warmth before failing and going cold again.

The library was empty of decorations, as the librarian was terrified of anything near her books.

Rose lent back on her chair, eating the sandwich she had made in the kitchen earlier, and flicked through the sappy romance novel on her lap; the book that her cousin had sent her for Christmas. Victoire really should know better. Rose hated these books, with the ever-so-perfect hero and his gorgeous (stupid) heroine.

But she was alone on Christmas Eve, in a library. Her only source of comfort came from the book "A Forbidden Love" poorly written as it was.

Rose knew forbidden love. She knew it, she felt it and she couldn't do anything about it.

Well not literally, but Rose liked that her Dad's heart still worked.

And the saddest thing was, that even though the book was written badly and without any hope of being turned into anything more than the saddest of movies, Rose liked it. It was sweet.

Rose was definitely going crazy, she had been for months.

She didn't know what made her stay at school over the holidays. Maybe it was because for once everyone was going to be at home, all talking and laughing and _smiling._ Just what Rose needed.

Malfoy hadn't talked to her in months.

I mean, how are you supposed to hate someone if they won't look at you?

Life for Rose wasn't fair.

And it meant no difference to her family; they just kept on annoying the hell out of her anyway.

Merlin, she was sick of it.

Curling up with a book and remorsefully going over the last conversation she had had with him didn't make her feel great, but hanging out with happy people made her feel worse. And it was a terrible conversation. He had approached her after Transfiguration weeks back, and she had slammed a pile of books on his hands. Rose couldn't remember what he had said, just that his hand was red for the rest of the week.

He hadn't said a word since.

He'd pass by her in a corridor and not even look at her, brushing past like a faint breeze.

She hated this. She hated life, she hated love and she hated him for making her feel this way.

Someone was shaking her shoulder. "Rose. _Rose._ Wake up!" The arm cried, as Rose blinked and tried to see through her heavy lids. It was bright, the library well lit.

She groaned, and tried to sit up. Her back hurt. She was lying on the cold floor of the library, onto which she had fallen asleep hours ago.

She rubbed her eyes and brushed her hair away.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" She scowled at how close he was to her, his flawless face just centimeters away from hers.

"Er, I came to get a book." He grabbed the nearest book, which happened to be the one she was reading earlier. "This one."

She raised an eyebrow as he held the book up and smirked.

"Like hell. Stalker."

"How am I a stalker if I happen to be in the library when you are here? Geez Weasley and you are supposed to be smart."

"There are a lot of things that I am supposed to be." She muttered.

"And anyway," he continued, not hearing her, "you practically live here."

"I do not!" She glared.

"Take a chill pill flower, it was only a joke!"

"I just like reading."

"Well you don't say." He smirked.

She stood up and got her bag. "Can I have my book now?"

He handed it over.

"Hey, can I show you something?" He asked, smiling.

"What?" She asked hesitantly.

"It's a surprise." Then his hands were over her eyes, tying a scarf round them, and he led her out of the library.

"Malfoy, where are you taking me?" She snapped, as he led her out into what she guessed was the hall.

"Calm down. I just want to show you something."

This Rose didn't like. She didn't like it at all.

She didn't like how she couldn't see, and that he was taking her somewhere. She hated the way his breath on her neck made her tingle all over; that she could smell the mint, the calming pine scent that he seemed to always have on the scarf round her face. She hated that his hand fit so well in hers, and was just the right temperature; perfect. But most of all, she hated that he was silent as he led her across the hall and to the Great Doors.

She raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything as he pulled her outside into the snow. Instantly she felt the cold, even through the sweaters that she had been wearing all day, it was freezing.

She felt snowflakes falling on her nose and hair, and lifted her head up to the sky, where she imagined the grey night sky was swirling with pretty, special dandruff-like flakes, that looked so beautiful.

She wanted to take the scarf off and look around, but resisted and kept it on. He would probably force her to wear it.

She wondered why he was taking her out into the snow in the middle of the night, before Christmas Day. Maybe he was going to push her into the lake, (but it was probably frozen over by now) or bury her in a pile of snow to slowly freeze to death. Or maybe he was going to take her into the forest, and leave her to be eaten by whatever animals happened to be there

Yet she didn't say anything.

He dragged her along for a few more feet and then stopped.

"Take off the scarf." He ordered quietly.

Rose began to pull it from her head, her mind working in over drive, thinking of all the possible ways he was going to torture her or hurt her.

She slipped it off and looked out into the night. The snow shone white and smooth in the light of the moon. She found that no more snow was actually falling on her head, and when her eyes adjusted she realized this was because she appeared to be in a giant clear bubble. There were several tables around her, all covered in candles which gave the dark night a yellowish glow, as some stood tall wedged into the ground. The bubble was keeping them warm and dry, so the candles allowed her to see.

And what she saw was this; in the middle of the bubble, made entirely out of snow, there was a giant heart. Not a cartoony, perfectly shaped heart, but a real one, a human heart.

Rose stared at the heart, which was 3D and quite shocking to look at. She could see the veins and the arteries on it, perfectly made out of snow, and it appeared to be pulsing, or beating, like a real heart would.

For a few minutes she didn't say anything, just walked round it, looking at the biologist's dream, gawping like a fish.

"You made this?" She asked; he nodded. "A heart?" He nodded again. "Why?"

"I made it for you. It's my heart."

"Why would you make me a heart out of snow?" Rose's own heart fluttered in her chest.

"Because you need something visual to see how I feel about you. I've already given you my real heart." He took a step towards her, and she stepped away, looking at the heart.

"But it is frozen. That doesn't make you heart so great."

"Feel it." He said, pointing towards it. She looked at him. Was he really expecting her to put her hands on a model of something that pumped blood around normal people's bodies?

He nodded again; she stepped forwards and placed her hand on the side.

It was really warm, quickly heating her freezing hands. He must have done something to it, charmed it into being so warm, so not cold.

"See." He smiled, not a hint of his usual smirking self. "My heart isn't completely frozen."

"I just don't get it. Why would you make me a heart? You haven't even looked at me in weeks."

He stepped closer to her, so close that she had to look up to see his (perfect) face.

"I gave you my heart ages ago, but you didn't seem to see and decided to kill me instead; every single time. So I thought I'd make you a heart and show you how I felt" His face and voice were so serious.

"But why didn't you talk to me in three months?" She snapped.

"Why? Did you miss me Weasley?" He was back to his teasing ways. She scowled at him, thinking about turning round and leaving him with his heart. Damn stupid heart.

"Sorry." He said sincerely, catching her arm before she could move. He ruffled his hair lazily with the other hand. "It's hard not to tease someone after so long."

"Just leave me alone Malfoy."

She stomped off, kicking at the snow pointlessly.

"Wait." He said. She turned round. "What is it going to take to show you how much I like you?"

"Like you'd do anything." Rose sniffed.

"I already spent the entire day making a good damn heart made of snow, which is really hard to do because I am not the type of person who spends all their time examining vital organs, especially hearts. Also, snow is hard to maneuver, it is cold and I then had to work out all these god damn enchantments so I could set up the freaking candles over there. And what happens? You say nothing. After all my work, you don't care. And yet I am the bad one."

Rose didn't know what do. She had never seen him so innocent, truthful and serious. It was strange, in a good way. Her heart pounded in her chest. Was he telling the truth?

Rose knew that her family would be disappointed. Hell, they would never get over it.

But if he was telling the truth and meant it, Rose wouldn't care.

But she didn't want her heart broken the next time he walked past her in a corridor and didn't look, or when he didn't speak to her at all at any of the Prefects meetings. She didn't want to be that sad.

She'd been that sad all day.

Rose knew that it was no coincidence that her eyes were always drawn to him in the room; that her heart sped up when he was near; when his name was said. She knew she was a ridiculous teenager, and that she shouldn't hate his guts one minute and be day dreaming about him the next. It was too much, and the dreams proved it. But then she was a teenager, and she wasn't supposed to know her future when she was 15.

She may just be falling in love with her family's worst enemy.

But she saw something in his face, something that she knew he was too bad an actor to pretend, that made her know. Know that time with him would be fun and all a girl ever dreamed about. She knew that he probably would never break her heart; but if she did, it would be an event.

So, she hugged him, wrapping her arms round him and squeezing like she had done when she was a kid.

He hugged her back.

Rose muttered against his chest; perfect even through several layers- "You better not be lying Scorpius Malfoy."

"I'm not, Rose Weasley." He laughed. "But what made you believe me?"

She looked at his perfect face and smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in days. Rose felt completely at rest, nearly blessed out. It was a nice feeling, being sure that the world didn't hate you.

"Your face. Even you couldn't fake that."

"So you are saying I am a bad actor?"

"Hey, there are a lot of things you do better. Like sculpting. Ever thought of a career in that?"

"Oh and my dad would be _so_ proud."

"Why wouldn't he? You could make a lot of money."

"To him, being a sculptor is like talking to a Weasley." He mimed having his neck slit.

"Pleasant." She smirked.

We walked back to the Castle after a bit, because her fingers were so cold that even his big, warm hands couldn't warm them. He ended up blowing out the candles, and they walked back in the moonlight. It was snowing less now, and the sides of the Castle looked set to make this a very nice, white Christmas.

Rose shivered. "It's nearly midnight isn't it?"

He nodded. "In… 58, 57, 56…"

"Stop counting!" She glared. "It is really annoying."

"Do you not like Christmas at all Rose?"

"I do, but…" It was hard to explain. All her life, every single celebration, her entire family had been there; her big, intertwined and slightly crazy family. They had cracked jokes and laughed and were always cheerful, always. And it was irritating to be told by at least fifty relatives; "Oh look how big you're gotten!" or "My, my, don't you look like your mum/dad/brother/cousin/distant unnamed relative whom you have never met!"

You get pretty sick of it.

And when it is so loud, with the turkey burning and people screaming and the chaos killing your head so you can't read or even think; the day isn't great.

She didn't know why they all loved it.

Rose shrugged. He didn't try to get her to tell him why she didn't scream and dance the wonders of Christmas, instead rubbed her hands a bit more to slow the frost bite.

He glanced at his watch again as they reached the stairs.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1." He mouthed, before turning to her and grinning. "Merry Christmas Rose."

She felt like rolling her eyes, but returned it with a smile.

"Can I give you your present now?" He asked.

She nodded, already wondering what he had got her.

"Close your eyes."

She did, and opened her palms for him to put it in, but nothing poorly wrapped or cheap landed there.

Instead, he kissed her. And all thoughts left her head; how cliché the kiss was or how she would have had to pretend to like the present. Gone.

Because out in the perfect snow they stood, on Christmas Morning, and he was kissing her.

And whoa, it was some kiss.


End file.
